Personally Speaking--Part 1
I was reading a hub the other day that dealt with purpose of life--or lack of purpose. I was surprised at the number of people that commented that also seemed to be without purpose in their life. I can identify. There was a time when I was lost and confused. There was a time when I no longer wanted to live. There was a time when I saw no hope.
I read another hub that focused on the grace of God. I'm one that has received more than my share of God's grace. I don't write this to wallow in self-pity. I don't write this to say, "Look at my story." We all have a story to tell. Mine is not special. I don't write this to say, "These are the lessons I've learned in life." God teaches us all lessons in is own way in His own time. I write this solely that God may get the glory He deserves for working in the life of a sinner.
It's not often I share my personal experiences. Much of that is probably a result of my upbringing and the insecurities I felt as a child. I don't know why I'm sharing some of these things with you now. But God has placed upon my heart a need to do so. I hope someone will benefit from it.
Although this is autobiographical (which, by the way, I've never attempted to write before), I'm leading up to a point that will be brought out in a later hub in this series. Please don't think, I'm writing only about me. Jesus Christ is my purpose for writing this. May He be honored and glorified through this series of writings.
My mother passed away when I was four years old. Much of the time before that, she spent in the hospital suffering from cancer. Remission was something not known then. I have no real memories of her. Yet she was taken from me at a time when I needed her most. This, I suppose was the beginning of my insecurities.
I was raised in a Christian home. Even though I was very young, I accepted Christ as my Savior shortly after God took my mother home. I didn't understand most of what the Christian life was about, but I understood enough to know that without Christ I was headed for hell because of my sin. I suppose I also wanted to see my mother again. I will someday soon.
My father was left to raise the five of us on his own. It seemed that he never had much time for me. I understand that now as he was grieving a tremendous loss in his life. He also had to work and was involved heavily in church activity. It wasn't a case of abuse by neglect. He just seemed far away and distant. This also added to my insecurities.
As a four year old I don't think I could fully understand my mother's absence. A feeling of rejection began to grow and was amplified by my father's lack of interest in my life. I clung to any affection I could get even if I had to invent it or imagine it. Yet through my early years I still looked to God.
I had developed a terrible crush on my fourth grade teacher. Of course that led nowhere and left me feeling more rejected. A few years later I took an interest in our neighbor. She also was a few years older than me, and most of the relationship was only in my mind. Finally I got up the nerve to ask her for a date. Se accepted and I felt a little self-worth returning. On the day we were to go out, she informed she had another boyfriend and was unable to go out with me--more rejection.
In ninth grade I struck up a friendship with another girl in my class.We dated for about six weeks when she informed she had to move on because her father thought we were getting too serious. Although that was probably true, I didn't believe her and wrote it off as more rejection. I had had enough rejection and would never trust a female again--until I reached eleventh grade.
One of my buddies set me up with a blind date. I had so much fun and I found myself, perhaps for the first time giving my heart away. We continued to date through my junior and senior year of high school. At the time of my graduation she was a junior. I was preparing for college and she was preparing for her senior year of high school. That summer we began making plans to marry--nothing in the near future, just dreaming a little bit. I thought I found myself. I thought I knew who I was and what I was about. I was so wrong.
In August we were planning our life together. By mid-September, she had left me know that she was dating another boy, and in one heart-breaking night, two years of my life had been washed away as meaningless. Rejection reared its ugly head again.
Early on in life I had taken an interest in music. My father bought me a guitar and I learned to love the instrument. I vowed to never be involved in a close relationship again and turned to music to ease the pain. I formed a rock band, and gave all my attention and time to "making it big." I found that applause somehow met my need for approval. In reality I still found myself empty. It was after a particularly bad rehearsal that I decided that the next day would be my last. I had long ago turned my back on God, and figured He had rejected me, too.
The next day I drove to a bridge with the intention of jumping off. Through some God- controlled circumstances He kept me safe. Exhausted and stressed to the max, I needed some time to rest. After a few weeks of recuperation, I left home and moved to Philadelphia where I thought I might have better success in the music business. It was there that God took His wayward child and began to deal with him. But the story's not over yet. As a matter of fact it's just beginning.
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